Quiet in Death



The time is here the light so shown,
Alas, I say that Death is near-
Of his presence have no Fear,
Do not think that you’re alone-
From hither hence oh can you hear?
That which dwelleth ere supreme-
And prayer giveth we unto Dream-
As thus do we all die the same-
Within the game to be held so dear?
Or is this life alas but lame-
As each and every passing year?
Again I see the people flee-
Hither and thither go they,
But whither plan they such away-
To steel Destiny?
Thence I say as if to know-
But what save for Death bestow-
Or Godly Deity up high-
To ask such a thing of I?